


This Plant Means You Kiss Me

by cuethe_pulse



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Mistletoe, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:14:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanji takes advantage of his favorite Christmas tradition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Plant Means You Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 21 of the ZoSan Christmas Exchange.

Sitting on the couch in the glow of the aquarium bar, Sanji watched Zoro unwrap his present. The others were all asleep on the grassy deck above them, bellies full of the Christmas Eve feast; Sanji had waited patiently for the last of them to pass out and now he was _itching_ for this moment. 

A grin decorated his face when Zoro was done and shiny green wrapping paper littered the floor. “Merry Christmas,” he nearly cooed while wisps of cigarette smoke left his mouth to form tiny hearts. 

Zoro looked from the pair of mistletoe-print boxers to the cook and back to the boxers again with a snort. “You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore, are you?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” 

“Right.” 

Sanji’s smile just stretched wider as he thought back on all he’d accomplished in the past week. 

\-- 

The first: a strategically placed sprig directly above Zoro’s collection of weights. 

“You know what that is, don’t you?” he’d asked, after using the excuse of a hydration break to bring a glass of water up to the Crow’s Nest and interrupt the swordsman’s routine. 

“An ugly plant.” 

“When you’re standing under this plant, ugly or not, it means you have to be kissed.” 

“Che. I don’t take orders from plants.” 

“Shut up and let me get it over with it.” Like he hadn’t planned it, like he hadn’t _ached_ for it. 

A bolt of nervousness had struck him then, foolish as that was, and he’d wound up hurriedly brushing his lips across Zoro’s cheek. 

The days that followed had more than made up for it. His personal favorite: persuading Zoro to help him lug sacks of flour into the pantry, where mistletoe hung from every inch of the ceiling. 

“You’ve got an infestation, cook.” 

“I know, it’s terrible,” he’d murmured, not bothering with any sort of sincerity, as he’d wrapped his arms around Zoro’s neck and pulled him in for several blissful moments. 

\-- 

Sanji could feel his knee shaking excitedly. “Gonna put ‘em on?” 

His answer came in the faint upward quirk of one corner of Zoro’s mouth. His heart rate quickened and he closed his eyes, heard the shift of the swordsman’s movements as he stood and the rustle of his clothes being removed. He blindly stubbed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and shed his suit jacket in anticipation.   

He felt fingers threading through his hair and smiled, eyes heated when he opened them again to look at the man standing in front of him. He lifted his hands to touch the expanse of skin now exposed to them, palms sliding up the bronze stomach and scarred chest, then back down to hold his hips as he admired the way the _brilliant_ boxers fit his occasional-lover. 

“Ah, the most perfect of all Christmas traditions,” he breathed appreciatively, a shudder running through him when Zoro scratched lightly at his scalp. 

“Hn. You would think so, pervert-cook.” 

“You will too,” he whispered cheekily, “when I’m done.” 

He pressed forward before Zoro could retort, nuzzling his face into the swordsman’s crotch. Above him, Zoro exhaled a chuckling breath but Sanji could feel the miniscule tremor in his thighs and it made him grin against the warmth of the encased bulge. He doled out kisses as tender as he would give the back of a woman’s hand until excitement won out and his mouth opened eagerly. An aggressive tongue coaxed at him through the boxers, inspiring twitches of arousal from inside. The fabric, growing steadily wet, clung nicely to his stiffening dick, and Sanji allowed a pause that was just long enough to look up with a smirk. 

“They seem to be getting a bit snug, hm?” 

He received a wordless grumble in reply and dove back in without delay. 

Sanji could taste him now, the flavor that haunted him with an obsession that possibly bordered on creepy, the teasing seep of precum where the tip of his cock pressed desperately against the material. His tongue rubbed at the moisture, wanting, and the fingers in his hair gripped. He licked along the outline of the now full erection and sucked hard when he felt it pulse, the barrier of the boxer shorts soaked in his mouth. 

Hazily, though preoccupied, he found himself thinking about the kisses he’d stolen. He and Zoro had been fooling around for months, bending each other over crates in dark storage rooms and giving handjobs in rushed showers. The night everything had started, there’d been a frantic mashing of liquor-bathed mouths and maybe that’d left them feeling disenchanted in the sober aftermath, but they hadn’t attempted it again. And as time passed, the act of kissing had somehow felt too different, too intimate for them. 

So Sanji had taken full advantage of the holiday season, indulging in the brief moments with his fingers on the other man’s neck or curled in his shirt and the soft press of Zoro’s lips. At those times, he could pretend they were something a little more than whatever they were. Something a little more real. 

But achieving that was too big a task for mistletoe. Hell, it’d probably take a Christmas miracle. 

“Cook…dammit…” 

The growled curse and tugging at his hair brought Sanji back to himself. He pulled away to examine the mess of saliva and precum that stained the shorts, beaming proudly. 

“There, now you have to wait until tomorrow for the rest of your present.” 

“Like hell I will!” 

\-- 

Zoro sprawled out ungracefully on the couch, skin flushed red and a sticky wetness cooling on the back of his thighs—evidence of not just their completion, but how _thorough_ Sanji’s mouth had been. (“Turn around, marimo. There’s mistletoe on the other side too, you know.”) 

Sanji sat a little further down, utterly satisfied. He admired the swordsman’s disheveled state with unashamed and undisguised lust. If he hadn’t just come so powerfully, he’d be hard again. “So tell me,” he said, lighting up lazily, “do you have a newfound appreciation for the tradition now?” 

“Not really.” 

“Shitty fucking Grinch bastard…” One leg raised, ignoring his nakedness, Sanji was prepared to kick him to the floor and was only stilled by Zoro’s next words. 

“But listen. You don’t have to use that stuff anymore.” 

“What the hell are you talking about…” He knew very well that Christmas would soon be over, and he would have to take all the sprigs down. Well, maybe he could leave one or two; accidentally, of course, just an oversight. 

“You don’t need an excuse to do it.” 

Sanji’s stomach did a number of spectacular flips. “Do what?” 

Zoro didn’t answer, because he knew Sanji understood. And he did understand, and that understanding had him feeling light and hopeful in a way that might’ve embarrassed him if he wasn’t so happy. 

He’d never doubted the existence of miracles.


End file.
